


Love (Is) Blind

by LiberAmans214



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Blind Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel In Love, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, F/M, Fluff, For a Friend, Happy Ending, Implied Destiel - Freeform, Reader-Insert, SO MUCH FLUFF, You are in it too, my first reader insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:19:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/pseuds/LiberAmans214
Summary: In which you and Cas have a really happy ending together. Castiel is blind, you are a photographer; it's sugar and spice, and all things nice.





	Love (Is) Blind

“Excuse me?” You clear your throat, because walking up to him with an apologetic expression as you had, a few moments ago, hadn’t got any reaction. “Buddy?”

The dark-haired man looked up at you. “Yes?” He took off his earphone, and buried them in his jeans pocket, fiddling with the fabric of his hoodie. “Have you been standing there a while?” He looks up at you through dark sunglasses.

“Not long,” You smile back.

“Did you need something?” He asked, almost spontaneously.

“I wanted to ask for your permission, actually,” You shift your weight to the other foot, fidgeting with the strap of the camera around your neck as he keeps looking at you keenly. “I wanted to take a photograph of this, uh, the whole park scene behind you. For an assignment.” You shrugged, and looked at him hopefully.

“Do you,” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Would you like me to move, then?”

“No!” You draw back. “ _With_  you, I meant. That’s why I was asking you. I wanted a candid, but rules of the class.” You grin, but he doesn’t quite mirror it, still looking at you through those glasses. “Go back to your earphones, if you will. I don’t wanna bother you. Its just, a beautiful view.”

“But, with  _me_  in it?” He repeated, doubting.

“How does that take away the element of beautiful?” You throw back, suddenly feeling adventurous. The man was beautiful anyways. A sturdy jaw with sharp-cut lines, lean build, and the messy hair. In a grey oversized hoodie and darker jeans, he looked like he’d be in college. Around your age then.

He hesitates.

You laugh a little, leaning ahead to touch his shoulder. “If that very obvious line went over your head, dude, it  _meant_  that I thought you’re beautiful.”

His face twitches into a smile, and he nods a little. “Thank you, then.”

“No problem,” You grin, only a teensy but disappointed that he didn’t really reciprocate the attention  _that way,_  and walk away from him taking your stance, around seven metres away and kneeling and crouching to get a good angle.

But you had to give it to him. The man was a damn good model.

He doesn’t even flinch when you take the pictures, and doesn’t look in the direction of the camera once.

**

It is a few days later, and you see that man again. You wonder how you don’t even know his name yet, because the face has been floating around in your brain vividly enough. This time, he’s on the very same spot, and you can’t help but walk up to him again, a duffel bag on your back.

“Hey, you.” The greeting is accompanied by a jovial smile.

“I remember you!” He responds, turning his head to look at you the same way. He still has those glasses on, and they’re perched on his nose quite securely, as though he’s very used to wearing sunglasses. Considering it was a cloudy day, you’re mused, but don’t poke. “You’re the photographer, right?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You reply, a little subdued that he’s so enthusiastic about ‘remembering’ you, when he’d played quite a regular role in your memories from that day. “Just taking a few classes on the side.”

“Well, do you need me to move today?” He asks, perfectly serious. “Like, whoever approves your photographs said I couldn’t be in them and you had to redo it.” He smiles, and yeah. It was a good look on him.

“Nah,” You wave your hand dismissively. “That photo came out great, and Drew loved it too. Nobody minded you. And uh, thanks, I guess. I’d  _show_  you the photograph, but I don’t have my camera handy and the printed one is probably buried so deep in this duffel that it’d take me more time than you have.”

“You don’t know how much time I have.” He answers. “That won’t be an issue.”

You raise your eyebrows, kidding. “You wanna see your photo so bad, dude?”

He doesn’t really respond to that, biting his lip instead, as his shoulders tense. You take it as a sheepish yes, and grin even broader.

“You know what, I’ll bring my Polaroid camera here someday, and we’ll take some more photos or something?” Somehow, he doesn’t really reciprocate your grin even now. “You’d have a good time looking at yourself in 'em, huh?”

“Not really.” He finally says, and you’re taken aback, until his hand goes up to his face, and he pulls off his glasses.

His eyes are beautiful, blank, anda glassy sapphire.

“Oh,” You blink, as you connect the dots.

“Yeah.” He begins to put the glasses back on.

“Your eyes -” You begin.

“- can’t see -” He finishes, rather awkwardly, the glasses back in place, and his shoulders somewhat relaxing. You shake your head, but remember just in time that he can’t see, so you audibly whisper no before finishing your own sentence.

“- are  _very blue._ ”

“What?” He says, reflexively, before he seems to process it, and smile broader. “Oh,  _that_. Yeah.” He pauses. “I’ve kinda forgotten what they looked like by now, though.”

“You want me to describe them for you?” You offer, unthinking.

“Not right now, but maybe later.” He chuckles, and it’s a great moment to hear his laugh for the first time. “That’d be my pleasure and privilege.”

**

“I’m Castiel. Castiel Novak,” he says, when you’re walking away. “I am used to being called Cas though.”

“Cas.” You repeat. “That’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles broader than you’ve ever seen him smile, and the crowfeet and the gummy smile has you mirroring it. “Thanks for telling me.”

You laugh.

**

On your first date, you sit across each other in a outdoors cafe, and are both sipping coffee from souvenir mugs. You’re talking, and your fingers are entwined near an edge of the table, and it’s a good evening.

The other day, he’d told you about his life, and the going blind at the age of 7. He’d spent double of the years he could see, living in a World where he could not anymore. But he sounded so thankful that he at least had had those 7 years to see the World, be it from a child’s unfocused eyes. He knew the colors when you named them, and at least, he joked, he could picture you in your head now.

He said you were beautiful, a few moments later, and apologized for not being able to say it that first meeting. You laugh and ask if his first thought was that it would be a lie if he said it without confirming, and he immediately shook his head and insisted that he was still confused if you were being sarcastic to him.

There’s nothing to forgive, but you say you do it anyways, when he asks you, in that gentle manner of his.

**

Another afternoon, you’re having ice cream together in a parlour, and you’re in a good mood so you ask him spontaneously. “I know you know how faces look and feel, but have there been any incidents ever?”

“You mean,” He frowns a little. “Such as me putting the spoon in my nose or…?”

“ _No_ ,” You chuckle, shaking your head before you remember to say it out loud too. “More on the lines of, I dunno, aiming for someone’s lips and miscalculating?”

“And kissing their chin?” He adds.

You laugh. “Is that a yes?”

“No,” He promises. “I swear, that hasn’t happened. I mean, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“So, like, it’s probable?” You continue to laugh.

He leans in, and speaks the next words in a softer voice. “Since you’re so worried, if I ever get to kiss you, Y/N, I promise I’ll cup your face first, so that I can estimate with all the facts in my head and not miss.”

“Dammit,” You whisper back, playfully. “That sentence isn’t supposed to sound flirty, is it?”

Cas hums diplomatically in response, and neither of you feel the need to increase the distance between your faces for the rest of the time.

**

You both plan on walking home together - he happens to live in the same neighborhood as you - and you meet him on the park bench at four, when you’re done with your lectures for the day. He’s doing a correspondence course from Reed in Zoology, so he doesn’t have day classes like you.

He brightens up on hearing you walk towards him even, and says its because he can distinguish your steps now.

Your hand begins to trail down his forearm, mostly unthinking, maybe a little bit conscious.

“You don’t need to take my arm,” He tells you, abruptly jerking his hand. “I know this route, and I have my stick - I can walk.” He almost sounds a little vulnerable and disappointed, more than disgruntled.

“Hey,” You mutter, intertwining your fingers. “I was just trying to hold hands, idiot.”

“Oh.” And then he blushes, and it’s a rare sight but pretty exciting, as he almost immediately gets into stance, and comfortably rests with his palm against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, its okay,” Your thumb swipes over the skin of his knuckles, and he tightens the grip.

**

Then there’s another time, and you’re sitting on a park bench. Its him talking now, because you just finished telling him about your pet.

“So, I guess what I mean to say is,” He rounds up. “People will describe themselves for me, if I hint at it. If I ask, they’ll certainly tell me where I am and what the place looks like. But nobody really thinks about telling a blind person what they look like.”

You nod, understandingly, squeezing his hand in yours.

“Like, did my shoes get filthy? Is my hair not in place?” He grins. “Sometimes I’d like to know what I look like when I smile, you know.”

“I’d tell you,” You suggest.

“No, now it’s gonna make me feel like I made you do me a favor,” He laughed. “A rather conceited favor, that too. Asking you to talk about me more than we already do.”

“Please,” You smile, stroking his hand in yours. “Let me do the honors. I only apologize in advance for the lack of, what do they call it, poetry?”

“Where’s the poetry in telling me about my face?” He asks, smiling again.

“I wish I’d prepared more for this,” You chuckle, ignoring his rhetorical question, and beginning. “So, uh, lets start at the top? Your hair? Cute, in a bedhead sort of way.”

“Seriously?” Cas ran a hand through his hair, apparently straightening out a bit of it. “I thought my hair was my best feature.”

“No,” You apologetically correct. “That would’ve been your eyes. They’re beautiful, I’ve told you already. And,” You almost touch his face, without thinking about it. “When you grin real hard, you get these crowfeet here, on the side of your eyes?”

“Uh-huh?”

“They’re pretty cute too.” You tell him. “I don’t really know what are adjectives for noses, Cas, but -”

“- just tell me its a normal human nose, and lets not go into details.” He jokes and you nod, agreeing.

“That it is. And, uh, your cheeks.” You pause, and draw in a breath. “There’s a stubble -”

“I know how to trim, yes.” He cuts in. “I don’t shave, because there’s a greater risk of cutting myself then? But I can trim it, yeah.”

“Well, I like the settings of the trimmer,” You shrug. “I mean, it’s a good, five-o'clock shadow thing you’ve got going. And I think you have the kind of dimples, which would show up if you rounded up a bit?”

“Makes sense,” Cas touched his face, simply trailing his finger down his jaw.

He looked good doing it, too.

“And you got a hell of a sharp jawline,” You blurt.

“Okay,” His finger tapped his chin, as he clearly leaned more towards you. It was then that you realize how close you already are. Somehow you’d yourself moved closer to him as you talked. Not that either of your minded. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“I’m not done.” You whisper, feeling it more than thinking. You went on, speaking what came to your mind. “You have a dimpled chin, too.”

“I know that much,” Cas grins.

“And, uh, your lips,” You’re both but a breath apart. “They’re pink.”

“As lips are supposed to be, I gather?” He joked.

“And they, uh,” Somehow there was still more space to cover. You both kept on leaning, a fraction of a centimetre, in its own right. “Look sorta chapped.”

“Oh,” He wetted his lips, making your eyes follow the gesture and not look away. “They don’t feel that way.”

“They don’t?” You repeat, and it is inevitable now, with how close you are. “They’re also very pretty, did I say?” You mutter, almost to yourself, and then it happens.

Cas is the one who closes the distance, and all of a sudden, his lips are on yours, his warm hand is cupping your cheeks (true to his word, a real gentleman) and you’re pushing back just as enthusiastically. Its soft at first, almost chaste, and then you pull back, breathless.

“Say something,” Cas pleads.  _I cannot see your face. I cannot see your reaction._

“Yeah, they don’t feel that way.” You straighten to your full height, so that you can lean your forehead on his, just to how him that he had a lot more senses through which he could know you. Your breaths mingled, and you could still taste  _Cas_  on your lips. “But they are pretty soft.” You mutter, and this time its your move, and you hungrily push into the kiss.

He deepens it by slinging one arm around you, keeping it decent enough for a secluded park bench, but still passionate, as he parts his lips to give you access.

In that moment, Cas is all you can taste. His gasping breaths before returning to his rightful place against your lips, and the occasional soft moan when you wrap your hands behind his neck and begin to explore is all you can hear. The heady musk of slight cologne, honey shampoo and a wisp of caffeine is all you can smell, except for what has to be Cas himself. All you feel is his lips shifting against yours, his hand so gentle but desiring on your layers, and the other hand, large but soft, cupping your face.

It is all you need, so you close your eyes.

Because you already sense all you need to, the eyes are not even needed to know Cas anymore.

**

Years later, when you’re both in your mid twenties, Cas kneels in front of you in that exquisite restaurant. The pianoman plays a merry tune he chose himself, he later admits, and he’s smiling so wide when you say yes, trying but failing to keep the sheer gushing happiness within, and beginning to laugh with joy, tears filling your eyes.

You loved this man, and now you were engaged.

To the clapping of the rest of the restaurant, he proudly takes your hand in one of his and the gorgeous diamond-studded ring in the other. His glasses today, are lightly tinted, and you can see his eyes blur with tears, too.

“Put it on yourself, Y.N,” A familiar voice, Dean Winchester, Cas’s best friend echoed from the wheelchair on the side, clearly joking and laughing; sounding just as happy about this as you felt. “The guy could end up putting it on your middle finger.”

The room roared, with Dean’s joke.

You were about to defend your fiance from the brutal comment of his friend, though only in jest, but Cas yelled back with good humor. “You think she’d be marrying me if I couldn’t even tell her ring finger apart, you assbutt!?”

“Sorry!” Dean threw his head back and laughed. “Surely you’ve got to know something about fingers and holes, dude, since you’re not exactly pretty!” He added, wickedly.

“Oh, shut up.” Sam elbowed Dean hard enough to make him quiet. “You’re just ruining the moment for them, jerk.”

You ignored their banter - you’d had kind of a theory that  _insistently-heterosexual Dean_  someday had had a  _thing_  for your boyfriend, but it was a thing of the past, and now he just teased him every opportunity he got - and you looked back at Cas, beaming. “Come on, make me an engaged lady, Cas!”

“Thank you,” He repeated, against your lips this time, back on his feet after the ring was on. “For saying yes. You’ve made me the happiest, I’ve ever been.”

“I love you, too.” You almost breathe out, because it’s something, that needs to be said as often as it can.

**

On your wedding day, you stand at the altar, the best day of your life, and the Reverend marries you both.

You have prepared your vows from a great deal of thinking. You’ve tried to make it capture the essence of your entire relationship, and you’ve done a great job.

There are people wiping their eyes in the audience, as you slowly read them out, from the cue cards. There are a lot of things you have to say, and by the time you reach the last card, you can hardly read the words because of how blurred your vision has become from the tears. You end with a heartfelt promise for forever, and feel like your heart could burst with the love you feel right now.

Cas, on the other hand, has no cards to read. Instead, he holds your hands in his, takes a deep breath, and goes off saying his vows as though either, he prepared them so well that he can flawlessly speak from memory - or he didn’t even prepare, and just stood in front of you, at the altar and in front of the church full of family and friends, and professed his love onto you with a consistent graceful smile on his lips.

And it truly is, a happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first Reader Insert I ever wrote, so I just hope it was enjoyable! Have an amazing day! 
> 
> Come visit me at [ my tumblr ](https://misha-moose-dean-burger-lover.tumblr.com)


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